Chapter 17

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Xie Chang’an said, “Your talent surpasses mine, and you are smarter than I am, but you just can’t focus. Because of that, you haven’t been able to join Senior Sister Yu and the others on their trips down the mountain to gain experience. Senior Sister Yu said the Hundred Battles Push Mountain Assembly is about to start. I hope to go and join the fun then. Are you really content to be left behind here on the mountain?”

Zhang Fanruo still felt a bit resentful, but his spirit had diminished somewhat.

“Actually, staying here isn’t so bad. I quite like it on Chishuang Mountain. I could stay here my whole life.”

Xie Chang’an was silent for a moment. “You know, I escaped from a sea of corpses and bloodshed. The outside world is already in chaos, with countless lives suffering. I’ve always believed that since both the emperor and An Lushan have cultivators by their side, it means the mortal realm and the world of cultivation are still connected by some thread, never completely separated. If one day the mortal world’s crisis spills over to Chishuang Mountain, forcing you to fight, you can’t just expect to survive safely with only the Sword Qi realm, can you?”

Zhang Fanruo wanted to say it was impossible. With Chishuang Mountain’s strength, disciples like him wouldn’t be sent out to battle. Master and Uncle Zhu could solve it with a mere flick of their fingers. But he also understood Xie Chang’an’s good intentions behind these words.

“I get it, I get it. Stop nagging—I’m leaving now!”

Zhang Fanruo leapt down from a nearby tree, intending to leave her with a carefree back.

“Wait, take this basket of lychees with you.”

“All of them for me?”

“…You just ate half a basket, didn’t you? Share the rest with Senior Sister Yu and the others.”

Zhang Fanruo pouted but still took the basket and left.

With the noise finally gone, Xie Chang’an breathed a sigh of relief.

She had originally planned to pick some cabbages to take back to Pei San, but after looking around, most were either not yet grown or deformed in appearance, so she couldn’t bring herself to harvest them. It would be better to clear the field and replant, but Zhu Xuanguang definitely wouldn’t allow that.

After careful selection, she barely found two decent cabbages. Pei San had been craving these mountain delicacies for a long time and wanted to make some wild cabbage rolls but dared not touch Zhu Xuanguang’s cabbages, so he had asked Xie Chang’an for help.

After two years together, Xie Chang’an had gradually learned the temperament of this master.

Before her, Zhu Xuanguang had never taken on disciples, but he was often diligent and not taciturn when it came to teaching—answering every question.

Since he was willing to personally cultivate the land, it showed Zhu Xuanguang’s private character was not aloof or hard to approach. He simply disliked long conversations with strangers and was often too busy—sometimes away from Chongming Peak, wandering the world in search of a quiet cave to cultivate, so much so that he frequently forgot about the cabbage patch here.

Xie Chang’an’s two years on Chishuang Mountain could be called the most peaceful and stable days of her life. She treasured all of it, dedicating herself to cultivation so as not to disgrace Zhu Xuanguang’s reputation. Though master and disciple met rarely, they gradually developed a tacit understanding, discussing the Dao and scriptures whenever together.

Zhu Xuanguang after familiarity was very different from the man she first met.

Setting the cabbages down on the tea table outside Pei San’s room, Xie Chang’an noticed the little medicine boy had disappeared again. Just as she was about to draw her sword and head to the summit of Chongming Peak—

Suddenly, a flicker of alertness surged within her!

There was no sound around, but her cultivation had grown increasingly refined, her senses sharp, and she had developed a subtle instinct for danger.

Her long sword slid from its sheath, and she immediately whirled around, unleashing a sword qi sweep without hesitation!

A shadow appeared briefly before her eyes, but the Ling Tian Sword shattered it instantly.

Yet Xie Chang’an did not relax. She mobilized her spiritual awareness and felt a faint but pervasive danger all around her, concealed but enveloping, leaving her no opening.

Her mind raced, but her body remained still, as if in meditation.

Xie Chang’an stayed calm, but the hidden force was even more patient.

She didn’t move; the enemy didn’t move.

She could not afford to be trapped in this slow spiritual energy drain forever. Sooner or later, she must break through.

In that brief moment of distraction, she suddenly felt a sharp pain like needles pricking her back!

She didn’t dare look back, knowing she must not. Her right hand held the Ling Tian Sword steady, while her left hand formed a finger gesture, tracing a sword flower in the void.

That faint sword flower suddenly condensed into energy, golden like the Ling Tian Sword’s light, but less dazzling. As her figure moved, the soft golden glow rippled outward like threads of gold woven into the fabric of her robes, as if plucked from the sunset clouds and embroidered delicately.

The golden threads shimmered like ripples, touching a reef on her left and spreading outward again.

In the blink of an eye, the Ling Tian Sword was thrust forward, swift as lightning, swift as a clear breeze!

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If anyone were to watch now, they would see the golden sword light move too fast to be discerned by the naked eye, almost stretched into a thin golden thread!

Her long sleeves fluttered, cloud mist swirling with the faint roar of wind and thunder.

Her opponent struck mercilessly, forcing Xie Chang’an to unleash the fastest and most fierce sword qi she had produced in years.

The path ahead was uncertain without reaching a desperate situation.

The girl’s figure was like a lean white crane, her robes billowing in the wind, elegant and swift.

Amidst scattered flower shadows and bent grass, only the sword qi remained—

A sword that shattered the twilight glow!

The shadow was pinned in place by the sword light, slowly taking form.

White streaks in his hair were bound by a jade crown; every gesture exuded calm energy. Zhu Xuanguang’s familiar face was serene and unruffled, but his eyes showed approval.

“That’s a fine sword strike. Only half a step away from the Sword Intent realm.”

“Master!”

Xie Chang’an’s heart settled back into place. She smiled and bowed, but hearing his words, she could no longer laugh.

“That half step—I haven’t comprehended it in six months.”

“More than six months. You used ‘Long Night Without Waste,’ where time stands still inside. You treated half a year as ten years,” Zhu Xuanguang said, casually taking her wrist, pressing three fingers on it briefly before releasing. “Don’t use it anymore. Excessive depletion of your essence, qi, and spirit will harm your cultivation. Everything in excess is detrimental.”

Xie Chang’an nodded. “I’ll return it to Chief Fang later. Master, did you just come back from outside?”

Zhu Xuanguang said, “I went to Huanlong Abyss. After that green flood dragon died, it left some magical treasures behind. Nearby mortals discovered and took them. Cultivators tracked the trail, slaughtered the village, and seized the treasures. Along the way, they accidentally triggered the green flood dragon’s lingering curse of death, killing each other until they all perished.”

Those few words carried many twists and turns.

Xie Chang’an was speechless. “The inner pill I obtained was left by that green flood dragon, right? Master, did you go to retrieve the treasures?”

Zhu Xuanguang answered, “I originally intended to destroy those treasures—they are not immortal-grade, useless to keep and only cause disputes. I had been too busy with trivial matters to handle it earlier. But since those people perished with the treasures, I don’t need to do anything now.”

Xie Chang’an sighed. “Come to think of it, it was thanks to the green flood dragon’s inner pill that I was fortunate enough to begin the path of immortality. It should be me helping to settle its affairs.”

Zhu Xuanguang glanced at her.

“That is my karma, not yours.”

Though he had initially tracked the inner pill, leading to their master-disciple bond, the pill was lost in the Tang Palace and stumbled into Xie Chang’an’s hands—ultimately, she benefited.

Xie Chang’an thought about it and found the words a bit strange.

Zhu Xuanguang noticed the basket on the wooden table and changed the subject.

“Why are you still stealing my cabbages?”

Xie Chang’an almost laughed with anger. “Master, do you even remember you planted cabbages?”

“That sounds like a strong accusation.” Zhu Xuanguang walked over and fiddled with the few less-than-perfect cabbages in the basket. “My memory hasn’t been great lately.”

His tone wasn’t joking, but the higher a cultivator’s realm and power, the less likely they’d suffer poor memory—no one had ever heard of a Sword Immortal realm expert being forgetful.

Xie Chang’an frowned. “Are you injured?”

His complexion was normal, no sign of injury.

Zhu Xuanguang clearly treasured those cabbages. Xie Chang’an had seen him stay in the field for an hour or two after returning, personally tending them. But if neither she nor Pei San reminded him, he would forget the cabbages were even there. These little things happened more than once. Though not serious, the accumulation was peculiar.

The greatest Sword Immortal realm cultivator in the world was a scatterbrain—no one would believe it.

“No,” Zhu Xuanguang said, then after thinking, comforted her, “Don’t worry, I’m well aware and won’t forget my disciple.”

That joke was not very funny.

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But this was Zhu Xuanguang’s other side, only shown to close acquaintances. Xie Chang’an could only grumble silently. She even suspected that the green flood dragon’s inner pill was forgotten by Zhu Xuanguang as he was chasing it, which is why it ended up in the Taiji Palace and favored her.

She also noticed that he could be quite sharp-tongued, or else he wouldn’t have so enraged Daoist Wenqin at the apprenticeship ceremony two years ago with just one sentence.

Lost in thought, she heard Zhu Xuanguang ask, “Do you want to go to Chenhua Peak to watch the stars?”

Xie Chang’an’s spirit instantly lifted. “Yes!”

Chenhua Peak lies to the left of Zhaoxue Peak, an uninhabited solitary summit. The fierce winds at the top make it nearly impossible for anyone below the Sword Heart realm to stand there. Yet there is an observatory there. The previous generation’s founder used some method to capture the entire night sky within view, unaffected by seasonal rain, wind, or clouds. No matter when one ascends, the Milky Way shines brilliantly, countless stars arrayed.

Two years ago, Zhang Fanruo secretly took Xie Chang’an there once. She witnessed the radiant sea of light and the vast firmament, profoundly moving.

At that time, she felt a sudden inspiration in her heart, but due to her low cultivation, the insight quickly faded, difficult to grasp. They could hardly endure the fierce wind for long and nearly lost their souls. In the end, Shen Xi and Yu Chunshan forcibly brought them down.

Zhang Fanruo was scolded severely and confined for three days. The more Xie Chang’an thought about it afterward, the more it became her obsession to revisit the observatory.

“Master, my cultivation isn’t enough to stand up there yet, is it?”

Last time, the wind nearly scattered her bones and flesh. The memory was vivid.

“Try it,” Zhu Xuanguang replied.

Indeed, only Sword Heart realm cultivators could stand steadily on the observatory without help.

But with Zhu Xuanguang present, the fierce winds at Chenhua Peak seemed gentler, merely lifting the hems of their robes softly, without the usual harshness.

Only then did Xie Chang’an realize Zhu Xuanguang had used spiritual power to erect a barrier around the observatory. Not only the gale but even Sword Heart cultivators would find it impossible to break through.

This was the true power of the world’s foremost cultivator—such overwhelming spiritual energy used merely to allow his disciple to watch the stars.

They sat cross-legged on the ground.

Xie Chang’an looked up.

Night had not fully fallen. The distant mountains and sky met in a line of shifting light, merging orange and purple hues, with blue mists settling over the river.

Above, the stars shimmered, the Milky Way unfolded like a river of light, seemingly within reach yet forever distant.

This was a scene beyond words, a marvel never tired of in countless millennia.

“The sun, moon, and stars follow their own path, like rivers and seas, flowing endlessly. Thus, throughout history, many have observed the stars to comprehend the Dao. Though you are far from Sword Heart realm, your aptitude is excellent. With the myriad stars in your heart and the jade cosmos imprinted on your spirit, there is much to gain.”

Zhu Xuanguang’s voice rang softly, a breeze brushing her distracted eyes.

“I once heard that when mortal emperors and generals die, they can stir celestial responses. What about cultivators? If I die, will there be celestial phenomena?”

Zhu Xuanguang was silent for a moment. “All things possess spirit and mysterious fate. The world’s path is proven by strength, but it’s not necessarily true that higher cultivation always means greater harmony with Heaven’s Dao. Decades ago, the head of the Sword Pavilion in Mount Shu was killed. At that time, his cultivation was only at the Sword Intent realm, yet it caused surrounding hills to collapse and the sun and moon to darken. It was rumored he was a prodigy who became one with the Dao, so despite a low realm, he resonated with Heaven and Earth.”

With Xie Chang’an’s comprehension, fully understanding this was difficult.

“If his Dao resonated with Heaven and Earth, why did he stop at Sword Intent? Isn’t the more one follows Heaven’s Dao, the higher their cultivation?”

“What do you think Heaven’s Dao is?” Zhu Xuanguang asked.

Xie Chang’an: “The laws of Heaven and Earth?”

Zhu Xuanguang: “If Heaven and Earth have laws, who established them?”

Xie Chang’an: “Innate, an invisible form, existing with Heaven and Earth, neither rejoicing at things nor grieving for oneself. Isn’t that so?”

Zhu Xuanguang: “I once thought so, too.”